rockin robin
by not.snorry
Summary: #EmptytheSlush still posting Harry ran away after a short lived affair with Remus #underage #slash and ended up married to the last person he would have expected. now they know each other's real identities, everything has changed. #snarry HP/SS #adults


He couldn't remember how it started, probably with Remus rubbing his shoulders, but he would always remember how it ended. Somebody should have told him that wizard kind had evolutionarily surpassed humans by developing a secondary, male birth canal. He'd always just thought the fold thing on his taint was normal. Somebody should have told him that an older man wanting to be with him was bad news. He'd grown up so fast he was sure he could take care of himself.

 _I took a test and think I'm pregnant_ _._ He should have prefaced the letter better. But he couldn't come up with anything else to say. _I took a test and think I'm pregnant_ _._ He didn't even sign his name.

The response hadn't been any better. H: Good of you to let me know. I'll send along the potion in a few days. I could go to prison. You do understand, don't you? RL

He understood that he'd been used; he understood that he'd have to keep quiet; most importantly, he understood that he was on his own. It had happened so fast. In the aftermath of the attack on Mr. Weasley, nobody had paid Harry much mind—except Remus. Over the course of a few days, they'd moved from backrubs to kissing and touching to fucking. The reversal had come even quicker. A few days after the letter came the abortion potion and then absolute silence. Even at the Department of Mysteries, where they'd lost three Aurors and Sirius had almost bled to death after a nasty slicing hex that nobody seemed to be able to cancel, they hadn't spoken. And maybe that was why he didn't feel bad not leaving a letter for Remus with the others.

He'd left out the baby part and focused on the coward part. I can't take another year of the nightmares and Professor Dumbledore pretending that I don't exist. I can't watch another person die or live knowing that yet another Order member sacrificed their life to keep me safe. You can do it without me.

He started packing his duffle bag again. Photo album, potions text, NHS records, expedited OWLs scores (still unopened as there was no point in knowing), three t-shirts, a button down, trousers, dress shoes, a Gryffindor knit cap, and the money he'd been able to withdraw from Gringotts. It wasn't much. The goblins had patiently explained the limits on his account. 300 galleons per withdrawal, Dumbledore's orders as his magical guardian. With the jeans, trainers, shirt, and sweater he was wearing, that totaled almost a week's worth of clothes and about £900. It wouldn't last long. He stuck his wand in his pocket, slung the bag over his shoulder, and left before he could he could change his mind.

On public transportation, it took him almost eight hours to get to his destination. Merseyside was a bit rougher than Surrey, but also cheaper, and somewhere he could more easily get a job without experience or proper A levels. Somewhere nobody would ever think to look for him.

It was nice to wander the streets without being noticed for once. He wasn't Harry Potter here, he was… well, he wasn't anyone. Picking a name hadn't dawned on him. James? No, Remus had called him that while they did it once. Evan? No, maybe Evans as a last name—but that would make him easier to find. Maybe a name from a book he's read? There's Jim Hawkins, Christopher Robin, Peter and Edmund Pevensie. He could be Jim Pevensie or Robin Hawkins. Yes, he rather liked the name Robin Hawkins.

"'Scuse me?" He waited for the old man behind the counter to look up. "I'm looking to take a room."

"At'll be £150 a month." The man's accent was difficult to understand, with how he left off the ending of most words. "First an last, plus deposit, at'll be £400."

"£400?" Sure, he'd taken out over double that, but it was far too much. With the Muggle world in chaos, he'd be lucky to make £3.00 an hour. "I'll have to think on it."

The man grunted and waved him out the door.

After checking out two more flat buildings, both of which were more costly, he was parched and well aware that the life inside him needed nourishment. The café stood out with its older design and lack of lights—there was no open sign, much less a store name, just a worn-out sign that said _books_. The quaint eating area opened into a small book shop and he could imagine the people that frequented it. Hermione-type people, not Harry-type people, which was fine seeing as he wasn't Harry anymore.

Three types of pastry sat on the tray in the display. Whoever worked here didn't know how to clean silver correctly, of that he was certain. Upon second glance, he decided they didn't really know how to clean the glass either—or they were too lazy to do it. He could pocket it, nobody was there to see and stop him, but it was nicely airconditioned and not a place he wanted to leave. And it would be wrong.

A lanky, white-haired woman crept in from the back, her feet making no noise as she walked. She reminded him of someone, but he couldn't name who. "What?" she snapped.

"Blueberry scone and a tea…please."

"Name?"

"Robin." Her eyebrows kitted together, but she made no comment. Was it too odd of a name? Perhaps he'd have blended in better with Jim Pevensie or Christopher Hawkins.

The face she made when she handed over his tea scared him straight out of the café. It was the sort of look that said she knew what he was, not that it was possible for her to know. Nobody would ever know. He'd make up a story about a girl he fell in love with and how she had bigger dreams than parenthood, but he didn't. He opened the door to go eat on the curb and found himself met with hot, sticky air. Was heat bad for the baby?

A peek around the corner confirmed that the woman was gone and the door slammed shut before he gave it a second thought. He wandered through the stacks looking for the perfect place to sit. If the woman caught him she might call the police, and if that happened he could be handed over to CPS. CPS would have no way of understanding his pregnancy and the Ministry would step in. He'd probably end up in Voldemort's hands then.

At the end of the stack labeled history sat the perfect little nook. It was only a few feet wide, but with his legs bent, he would fit between the wall and the boxes, perfectly out of sight. Sitting all bent up made him feel huge, like his rounded stomach was invading all other space. The little one kicked and he thought for a minute about going back. He was too far along for an abortion now. Remus would have to step up. They'd be a family. Maybe not much of a family. He and Remus wouldn't be a couple, clearly. Remus didn't love him; Remus probably wouldn't love the baby. Given his poverty, Remus wouldn't even be able to support the baby. He'd probably resent it.

The best option was being Robin and making his own way. He would always love the baby; he would always take care of the baby; he would suffer for it if he had to.

-:

"Daaaad!"

Robin opened a single eye, not in the mood to get up and deal with it. He'd grown complacent. If he'd passed out in any other store all those years ago he and Severus never would have met. He'd never have bought the place off Eileen and opened a magic shop in the back. He and Severus never would have gotten involved and he never would have grown accustomed to having a partner to depend on for sharing the parenting duties.

"Daaaad! Papa's here."

That woke him up with the same efficiency yelling Voldemort would have. He jumped back into the clothes he'd worn the day before and hurried into the kitchen. How could he have forgotten that Saturday was Severus' day? Perhaps he'd just forgotten it was Saturday. The pictures on the walls were theirs, as was the furniture, but ultimately the house was Severus'. He'd had it before they'd started dating. Robin had grown accustomed to crashing there when the need arose years before he saw Severus as anything other than Eileen's son.

He found them in the yard, passing a ball back and forth, but didn't gaze upon it with the joy he used to. This man wasn't a greasy bastard with a hooked nose. He was kind and generous, a good father. They were both liars. In Severus Prince, he hadn't seen Professor Snape, just as Severus had never seen Harry Potter in him. They were different people. But somehow that didn't erase the past.

Evan dribbled the ball between his feet while he looked up at Robin for attention. "Papa brought breakfast."

"That's marvelous," Robin said as he stared into the playful eyes staring up at him. "Were you waiting for me?" Sandy brown locks bounced around Evan's face as he nodded, his bottom lip between his teeth. "Come on then."

He followed Evan in without checking to see if Severus was following. How many breakfasts had they shared thinking they would last forever? A hand gripped his shoulder and he fought the urge to shrug it off. Part of him, most of him, still wanted this. He wanted Severus wrapped around him, inside of him, under him. He just didn't want the nasty realization that he'd accidently settled down with his most hated professor.

"So what did Papa bring?"

Evan wiggled around, performing his playful dance. "Papa brought donuts and pastries."

Severus pushed past Robin gently and lifted Evan with the ease of a Saturday morning before putting him back down. "Cheese blintzes for Dad and sprinkle donuts for you, little Prince." Severus' little Prince. That name had meant so much. Sure, in some ways Evan resembled The Little Prince, but it always seemed to be an affirmation that Severus was his father and always would be. Robin knew full well that the man had no obligation to them. "Coffee?"

Robin snapped his head up and nodded. "Yeah, I'll make it."

"Me too!" Evan called as he chewed on his donut, chocolate beginning to pool in the corners of his mouth. "I'm big, remember."

"Yes, very big," Robin laughed. Just not big enough to be told anything more than Papa was too busy at work to be home much. That would change, he knew. Severus would come home for the summer and they would find a way to make things normal again. There was no other option. The past two months of Severus coming every Saturday as scheduled had solidified that he would not abandon them. "It'll be back to Papa cooking eggs soon enough, little bug. Pastries are bad for my figure."

"There's nothing wrong with your figure," Severus responded automatically. It was a far cry from offering to fuck the extra stone off him. "Tell me about school."

-:

Severus pulled the door shut behind him. Two stories had been required to get Evan to sleep and he hadn't even felt like one. _Another one Papa!_ Papa, it felt like a slap to the face. There was some other man out there, a man he could never take the place of. When it was a mother that had abandoned Evan things had been different. He couldn't compete with a mother; clearly he wasn't father, that was Robin. He'd had a place in the family unit.

Robin being Harry Potter didn't even play into it. That faux pas was easy enough to side step. The Potter boy only occasionally came to mind, typically when the Order brought his disappearance up. Ultimately the boy hadn't been necessary. Voldemort was long gone. It didn't change a god damn thing.

But searching Evan's face for the identity of his progenitor, wondering who had touched his precious Robin before him, was unbearable.

"Are you off?"

"I suppose," Severus answered more out of instinct than honesty. "Though I'm not opposed to staying."

Robin snorted as he leaned against the wall. "It's your place, Sev, but I'm not sure my not-wrong ass is in the mood to share."

He bit back his retort. "It is our home, you twat." Even if he is not _our_ son, he filled in silently. It was an Order member, he knew with certainty. Evan was born in September 1996, logically putting his date of conception in December 1995. None of the Weasleys are queer, it hadn't been him, which left a relatively small sperm pool. "And I am rather fond of this," he said as he squeezed the love handle above Robin's left hip just hard enough to make a point.

The small smile he received belonged solely to Robin. Try as he might to find Potter in the look, he couldn't. But clearly Robin saw Professor Snape in every motion. "Not tonight."

 _Not ever again._ But at least Robin was young enough to find love again. Severus wouldn't. He'd been lucky to find love the first time. "Battery-operated boyfriend doing you well then?"

"Fuck you!" Robin's voice broke and reminded Severus that he was still only twenty-five. He hit his fist against Severus' chest twice. "It's none of your business how I take care of myself, you bastard."

They stayed like that, breathing heavy, until Severus turned and stormed off. He needed release; he needed Robin, but that was out of the question. If he strayed too close he might find himself disinvited from Evan's life—why would Robin want some big, greasy bastard raising his son when he could have anyone else? He apparated before he reached the end of the walk.

It was lonely, in his small quarters at Hogwarts. The pictures felt out of place, as if Robin and Evan weren't his to keep in a frame anymore. Mother would be devastated, were she still alive. She'd gotten them together, a separation never would have been acceptable. They should be arguing over whether or not Evan would go to Hogwarts. Robin would say no, because he didn't want his baby so far from home. Or perhaps he didn't want to risk Evan being found out as the Potter heir. Or if Evan went to Hogwarts, his father would want to become involved and Robin was just too polite to give Severus the boot.

He stripped slowly, acutely aware of every scar on his body they'd never discussed the origin of. There were the scars on his back from his father; the scars on his arms and legs from the Marauders' pranks; the scars on his collar from where that damned snake had bit him. His body was a tapestry of pain. Robin was a masterpiece—soft, flawless, perfect.

The erection from their momentary interaction remained caged as he set about tidying. He'd set up a room for Evan years ago, always believing he would bring them to the school at some point. Maybe he could talk Robin into letting Evan visit for a week over the summer.

The floo burst to life and he withheld his cringe. "Severus!" Remus' annoying voice echoed. "There's news."

News, news about Potter. Not something he was in the mood for. "Just a moment."

Children, loud, running, misbehaving children that should have been Evan's cousins, greeted him as he entered headquarters. There were the three Lupin spawn, the older Weasleys, named after those who had died—Arthur, William, Fred, Ginevra, Neville, Harry. The younger Weasleys. Screaming idiots, the lot of them. And far past their bed time. He would never allow it! Robin would never allow it. With so little discipline these children would grow up to be hooligans, most likely.

"Good evening."

Lupin smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Harry's been spotted in Wales. We've made plans…."

Severus tuned out and took his usual seat. Lupin pushed the Potter issue harder than everyone, even Black at this point. After almost ten years, most of them were going through the motions of looking, aware they would never succeed. Could it be? He studied Lupin with scrutiny. Was it possible? Lupin had been a Hogwarts professor, surely he wouldn't have raped a fifteen year old. The pieces were all there. He just had to believe.

"It's not Potter," he interrupted. "It's never Potter, Lupin."

"Someday it will be!" Lupin yelled.

It was Lupin! He'd never been so disappointed to be right. "Perhaps, but not today."

Dumbledore raised a single finger to call for their silence. He waved his hand over the parchment before him and words appeared. "Finding Harry will always be of the upmost importance," Black read.

"Why?" Severus asked the question that had been nagging at him for years. "The Dark Lord is gone. What does it matter if Potter returns? Maybe he's happy without us."

"So he knows we love him!" Lupin snapped.

Severus opened his mouth to rebuke him but lost the desire to do so when his phone range. He flipped it open and held it to his ear faster than he'd ever pulled his wand. "Are you okay? Is Evan okay?"

 _"_ _Evan fell—he's crying. I think his arm might be broken."_

"I'll be right home." He shoved the phone into his pocket and stood with enough force to knock the chair over.

"Severus?" Black said, presumably for Dumbledore.

He gave them no answer. Evan needed him. Robin needed him.


End file.
